The Day Dib Accidentally Conquered the World
by Ru Shin
Summary: Let me paint you a picture. Imagine that it's painted in flurecent colored crack, and features MPreg and Muffins. Interested? You should be. Death,Language,MPreg,Oneshot,Violence


Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters within this story. They belong to that crazy guy that doodles stick figures and exploding puppies, Jhonen Vasquez. I make no profit off of this.

Author's Note: Okay, so...I was having a pleasant conversation with x-atticus-x from Deviant Art. We were discussing how absolutely ridiculous M-Preg fics were, and how I loved to read them just to see what crazy idea they came up with next to get the poor guy preggers. I informed her that I was tired of seeing magical Man-Womb potions in the Harry Potter fandom, and then even more redundant means in the IZ fandom, and that I had, in fact written a mockery of a M-Preg fanfic. She then wanted to read it, so I told her that I would have to type it up as it was still in my Notebook Of Unspeakable Horrors. So I did. And here we are.

Please keep in mind that this was written in mock seriousness. I had a terribly fun time writing it too. XD Sorry to all you M-Preg lovers out there. If you get offended, then pull that stick out of your ass and lighten up. I still love ya. XD On to the fic.

**Title:** _The Day Dib Accidentally Conquered the World_

A gentle breeze blew through the air, causing raven hair to sway as gloved hands rubbed at lithe arms. It was cold, the dead of winter, but one teenage boy sat in his usual bush, his rosy cheeks accenting his focused, hazel eyes. 

He had spent so many cold nights sitting in this bush throughout the years; he was almost too tall for the poor shrub to conceal him anymore. Sighing, he ran a hand through his hair and took a swig of the coffee in his thermos. He made a face. "Yuck…cold." He took a look at his watch, groaning as he realized how long he had been sitting there.

Standing, he stretched and rubbed at his eyes from beneath his glasses. "Why do I even bother..?" He groaned once again, taking a long look at the peculiar house he had been watching. He sighed answering himself as was usual for the bespectacled boy. "Because, there's an egotistical, homicidal, world conquering alien in that house that wants to take over the planet."

He pinched the bridge of his nose, frustrated with the lack of activity that night. The highlight of his notes was G.I.R. bringing home groceries…He frowned, "People are stupid. How can they sell groceries to a "dog" and not think it strange?" He sighed, "Heh, talking to myself again."

"You should really stop that, ya know. It's weird."

He whipped around, letting out a yelp as he tripped over the bush and landed hard on the concrete. "Ugh…" He rubbed the back of his head and peered up to see who had snuck up on him. "Zim?!"

The alien stood there, leaning over the bush with an amused smirk plastered on his lips as he watched the human try to form his shock into a pathetic glare. "Who else would talk to some weirdo stalker in the bushes?" He quirked a brow, "What are you doing here anyway, Dib-beast? Zim has done nothing to pester you and arouse your "Parachuting" senses."

The boy glared harder at the disguised alien. "It's paranormal, not parachuting, Zim." He stood and brushed off his jeans and straightened his trench coat. "And I don't have those kinds of senses. I'm not Arachnid-man, you know." He pointed an accusing finger. "But that's _exactly_ why I'm here! You haven't tried any of your insane ideas in over a week!"

He winced at the shrill, whiney voice. So very annoying. He waved a hand in dismissal as he walked around the bush and towards his base. "I have. You just haven't seen them come to fruit yet." He grinned wickedly and turned his back on the other. "Pleasant dreams, dirt-spot. Enjoy them while you can." He cackled, amusedly.

His fingers clenched as he narrowed his eyes on the retreating figure. He would get to the bottom of Zim's evil plot! He lunged at the other, tackling him to the ground. "Tell me what you're up to Zim!"

The Irken landed with a grunt, squirming in the other's grasp until he was on his back glaring up at the other spitefully. "Release Zim, stink-monkey!" He continued to squirm, his arms pinned and useless.

Dib kept his firm grip on the other—it wasn't often that he overpowered the Irken and he was relishing the moment. "No! Tell me what you're planning!"

Zim continued to struggle, finally freeing an arm only to slam his palm into the other's face and push him back until their positions were swapped. He sat on the other's thighs, jabbing a finger at the boy's belly. "Fool boy! You can't be so rowdy; the smeebies will end up with tentacles or something!" He chastised unthinkingly.

He grunted as he was forced onto his back, smacking away the hand from his face. He glared up at the other in slight confusion. "Stop talking nonsense! What the hell's a 'smeeby' supposed to be anyway?! And stop poking me!" He swatted at the finger probing his stomach.

The alien sat there a moment, glaring fiercely. He had already said this much, he might as well finish. Besides, it was a golden opportunity to gloat over his impending victory. He smirked. "A smeeby is much like your pathetic worm-babies, Dib. A half-breed, if you will. A mix of an Irken Smeet and your disgusting, bacteria infested babies." He shuddered and gave another jab to the boy's stomach. "And you have a rather large amount of them inside of your abdomen." His grin was that of pure amusement.

He blanched at that, trying to look at his stomach as if he would see them crawling around inside himself. He shook his head. No, he had to think straight. He glared once more, "Nice try, Zim, but I'm a guy and guys can't have babies. It's anatomically impossible."

Zim wilted a bit. "Eh?" He scratched at his wig, causing it to go askew. "But Irken males were always the ones to carry the litter on my planet before we started using test tubes…Why is your world so _freaky_?!" He pointed accusingly as if it were all Dib's fault and huffed. Hoisting the taller male up, he drug him along with him as he ran to the door of his base and entered quickly.

"I BOUGHT CANDEH!" A shrill mechanical voice sounded from the couch as little robot arms flailed spastically.

"Not now, G.I.R.!" He continued to drag the other as he yelled at the sticky, little robot. He forced the other into the elevator, pressing the down button. 

Dib was too surprised to really fight the other, so he allowed himself to be dragged into the other's base. He whipped out his camera with a huge grin and waved happily to G.I.R. as they passed. The little robot squealed and continued to flail his arms, slinging candy everywhere.

He stumbled into the elevator, turning his camera on and focusing it blatantly on the Irken. "Sooo, space boy. How does it feel for me to outwit you without even trying?" His grin couldn't have been any bigger.

The alien's eye twitched at the comment, glaring over at the camera. "We'll see who outwitted whom soon enough, you sorry excuse for a biped." He huffed and crossed his arms, looking at the camera with disdain. "Why do you always bring those things? I always destroy them, ya know."

He shrugged. "I dunno. You can't possibly destroy them all. You'll have an off day and fail at destroying one, eventually." He wasn't very concerned about any of this, and recorded the other's movements.

"ZIM DOES NOT FAIL!" The little, green man yelled. "All things go according to my grand plan. You're just too stupid to realize it, Dirtling." He crossed his arms, looking away in a superior fashion.

"Uh huh. Whatever." He responded disinterestedly. He zoomed in on Zim's face. "Sooo…Why would you choose me to carry your evil, alien spawn anyway?" He grinned wickedly. "You wouldn't be crushing on me would you, Zim?"

Zim gave him a "duh" expression. "Of course I'm crushing on you, human! Ooooh, how I'm crushing you." He rubbed his hands together, cackling evilly. "And I thought that answer would have been obvious enough. You're the only person on this disgusting planet that's standing in my way. What better way to get rid of you than have you 'splode in gory, smeeby glory?"

He shook his head at the other's stupidity. "And what makes you think I would actually let them live inside of me long enough to reach maturity now that I know that they're there? Which they're not." Dib added quickly, narrowing his eyes.

The Irken snorted amusedly. "As if you'd be able to kill them." He gave an evil, knowing grin. "You're too valiant to kill off a bunch of innocent, defenseless smeeblings."

Dib said nothing as they reached their destination. Zim was right, but he wasn't about to admit that to him. He looked around the room as they stepped out of the elevator. It looked like every other room in the underground labs he'd been in, only empty. "Aaand you're going to find out what, _how_ here?" He asked sarcastically, quirking a brow.

"Foolish Dib-creature." The alien tsked. "Just because you can't see anything here, doesn't mean it's not there." He put his hands on his hips, staring up at the ceiling. "Computer! Perform a life form scan of this room, now!" 

There was a mechanical groan. "Fine…" A red laser appeared from the ceiling and fanned out, enveloping the whole room in a red glow.

Dib felt the scan pass over him, and shivered as it left him with a tingling feeling. He blinked and looked himself over; just to make sure he hadn't sprouted any extra limbs.

"Scan complete." The computer stated in a bored fashion.

"What was the conclusion? Tell Zim!" The alien commanded.

"27 life forms evident in this room." The computer responded. "Are we done?" It asked hopefully.

Zim had a victorious expression, "Yes, yes. Very good, computer. We're done." He narrowed is eyes gleefully at the other. "Who outwitted whom, hmmm?" He asked, cackling happily.

The raven haired boy's face paled, and he was sure he was going to be sick. "N-no…you're computer's lying for you!" He accused, pointing a finger at the smaller male.

"I resent that." The computer remarked, offhandedly.

Dib glared up at the ceiling. "I refuse to believe it!" His legs were trembling and he had to steady himself against the wall, the video recorder crashing to the floor. "There's no way you could have impregnated me, Zim!" He clung to his denial like a rat in a river clings to a limb.

Zim shrugged, his smile never faltering. "Believe what you want, Dib-Mama. Your death will occur in few weeks, no matter what you think." He was practically bouncing with joy. He'd be able wear his special rulin' hat in no time!

He swallowed thickly. "N-no…no way…h-how could you even…?" He trailed off, his legs finally giving out and he knelt there, staring at the other questioningly.

Folding his hands behind his back, he rocked back and forth, from heel to toe. His grin looked as if it might swallow his head whole. "Well, I suppose I can let you in on my infallible plan…Do you remember last week? When we were served muffins at lunch?"

Dib glared. "We have muffins _everyday_, Zim."

It didn't seem possible, but the Irken's grin grew. "Ohhh, but do you remember that one day when the butter seemed…_creamier_ than usual?"

Dib's cheeks had a definite green tinge to them now. "That—you—it…that was your…" He covered his mouth with a hand, trying to control the wave of nausea that washed over him. "You sick bastard…" He managed to get out before heaving the contents of his stomach onto the floor.

He stalked over to the other, patting the puking boy on the back with an air of superiority. "Oh, but you seemed to enjoy the taste so much at the time." He smirked wickedly.

He groaned, pushing the other's hand away. "Don't patronize me, you bastard." He growled out, the stinging taste of vomit lingering in his mouth. He stood shakily and made his way towards the door. He didn't want to be anywhere near the other, lest he heave up a few organs.

Zim waved jubilantly. "Take care, Dibbers!"

Dib could hear the alien's maniacal laughter follow after him as he rode the elevator and left the pink house...

A week and a half passed so fast, it seemed delusional to the bespectacled boy as he sat forlornly on his couch, shoving potato chips down his throat. He had begun to grow fat, his stomach expanding to twice its usual size, in his mind deadening depression. He could no longer wear his trench coat, as the rolls of fat gathered and his arms became chunkier.

He was going to explode at this rate, and there was nothing he could do about it. Sure, he could get rid off them, and he had tried. He really had, but…he never could go through with it.

So there he sat. Mentally decomposing as his waistline flourished.

Another week came and went, and Dib could no longer walk in his usual fashion. He waddled about, like a beached walrus. The neighborhood children had taken to coming over and poking him with sticks.

Zim began visiting him everyday, gloating over his imminent victory. He counted off the days, gleefully poking at the raven haired boy's lard and cooing random things about world domination to the smeebies within.

He would often poke an area, and then give it name. He was very pleased about having an army of smeebies to command once Dib went "Boom."

The last week was coming to an end, and Dib found himself…relieved. The world was doomed, and Zim had won. But at least he would soon explode into a great gory mess, and not have to think about it every minute of every day.

Zim came to collect him, dragging him to his base for observation. The hour of truth grew near.

"Well, Dib-Ball." Zim started, standing expectantly before the large boy sitting on the couch. "I shall miss our battles and blah, blah, blah…I'll remember you, and your legacy shall live on through our smeebies and yadda, yadda, yadda…" He looked at his Irken numeral watch, and hummed pleased. "Three minutes left."

Dib sighed, looking down only to see the rolls of fat that covered him. He looked back up at Zim, expecting a count down of some sort. He tried to think of something meaningful to say before the inevitable happened, but failed. He was too tired, and really didn't care any more.

"10, 9, 8, 7….3, 2, 1, 0!" Zim's gaze swept up from his watch, a grin on his face.

He stared at Dib.

Dib stared at him.

And nothing happened.

"Uhhhhm…why aren't you going all 'splodey-like?" He asked, poking the human in the stomach.

To be honest, Dib was as surprised as Zim was. "Maybe your watch is wrong…?" He suggested.

"No, I double checked it this morning." He tapped his chin. "Well, maybe they're just stubborn smeebies." He crossed his arms and settled onto to the floor, prepared to wait.

An hour passed, and Dib was beginning to grow bored. "Can I just go home?"

"NO!" The Irken yelled. "Zim must witness the gore!"

Dib grumbled. "Fine…" He settled on staring at the wires that formed the ceiling.

Another hour passed, and Zim began to squirm and sweat.

"What's the matter, Zim?" Dib asked with a sneer, regaining some of his old personality because of the lack of death. "Getting nervous that you might have messed up once again?"

"Never!" Zim shrieked, standing up indignantly. He wrapped his arms about his middle as his stomach churned. He began to pace. Why wasn't the Dib 'sploding? Had he miscalculated something?

Yet another hour passed and Zim grimaced. "S-shit…" 

Dib blinked as Zim collapsed to his knees. "What's your problem?" He asked, narrowing his eyes. His question was quickly answered as a tiny arm ripped through the alien's stomach. Blood and flesh sprayed all over the walls and covered Dib from his head to his fat toes. A blood curdling scream tore from the Irken's throat. 

He watched, wide eyed as slowly, Zim was torn apart from the inside. Vicious little faces appeared, ripping away flesh with their jagged teeth. His screams died away as his body went limp. It was the most horrifying thing Dib had ever witnessed. He watched as the little creatures devoured the corpse of his arch nemesis, his stomach churning unpleasantly at the gruesome sight. So much blood…yet, he couldn't turn away. He felt consciousness leave him as a small, bloodied, smeeby crawled onto him and peered at his face, an all too familiar grin plastered on its green flesh.

He woke sometime later to sirens wailing and people screaming outside. The house was empty, except for G.I.R., who sat watching a news report while eating a burrito. He spotted Zim's Pak on the floor in a puddle of blood…but that was all.

"Uhhh…computer?" He wasn't sure if it would answer, but thought it was worth a try. "What?" The mechanical voice asked agitatedly.

"Uhm, what happened?" He asked, staring at the television and watching as the smeebies brutally slaughtered everyone in their path. "Start from the beginning, please."

The computer sighed, retracting a video screen which it played as he dictated. "Zim gave you the muffin. It didn't work because of your anatomy. You fought with him over a camcorder in your bedroom after you exited your bathroom. You had traces of your own…uh, _creamy butter_ on your hands and it came into contact with his skin, thus causing him to become pregnant and not you." He concluded in a bored tone.

"B-but…" Dib started. He looked down at his vast waistline. "What about…" 

"You're just fat." The computer supplied.

"Oh." Dib said, blinking. "And the smeebies…?"

"They're killing everyone and conquering the planet for you to rule with an iron fist." It answered.

"For _ME_?!" Dib asked, flabbergasted.

"You _are_ their Father, and thus their Commander in Chief as well as mine and the S.I.R. unit's due to Zim's death." The computer said impatiently. "Can I finish playing Space Invaders now?" It asked.

"Oh, uh. Yeah, I guess." He blinked, overwhelmed, and stared at the carnage on the television screen, the sounds of the computer's video game beeping away.

G.I.R. jumped up, burrito filling going everywhere. "Ah'll go get the rulin' hat!"

End.

End Note: Hope you all enjoyed that bit of crack filled foolishness. :)


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